Kaeptiv
by Emerald-Velvet-Touch
Summary: Marie-Louise is certain she loves her Rose Knight, and George won't act upon his feelings for the Princess. After the events of the Dark Gundam they rarely cross paths. What if a tragedy opened their eyes--and their hearts--to what's been there all along?
1. Apres pour La Princesse

'Kaeptiv 

Disclaimer from the Emerald-Velvet-Touch: I DO NOT own G-Gundam---though I wish I did. I give all credit to Hajime Yadate and Yoshiyuki Tomina it's esteemed creators and---of course---Bandai.

Preview: Marie-Louise is certain she is in love with our dear Rose Knight, and George will not act upon his feelings for the Princess. After the events of the Dark Gundam they rarely cross paths. What if a tragedy opened their eyes---and their hearts---to what's been there all along?

Chapter One---Apres pour La Princesse

Marie-Louise looked out the clear window of her room. She ruffled her pink dress between her fingers unconsciously, her eyes glued to what lay outside. Her favorite Rose Knight---George De'Sand was fencing with one of the hopeful men who would challenge him for the title of her country's Gundam fighter.

His movements had deadly accuracy accompanied by a graceful fluency that he had gained after many years of strict training. His eyes were a slightly darkened version of the bright violet shade she was used to---she had learned that to mean he was in deep concentration, but she also noticed they were laced with his deep passion for the joust. Those eyes—she always felt like she was sinking into those deep pools—being suffocated from the hold they had on her, and she never wanted them to let go.

With undetectable speed he parried his opponent's lunge and twisted his wrist into such a position that the clash of metal sent the shocked man's foil out of his hand and into the air. George smiled and caught it by the steel hand guard in his opposite hand.

He flipped it so as to give it back to his adversary and the man purposefully walked over. Once back in his possession the two knights took on step back, put their foils vertically at the chests, and bowed respectfully---as it was proper custom.

She watched as the defeated knight said something to George, his eyes clearly showing admiration. To which George ran a hand through his thick orange hair and studied the stone path briefly---Marie-Louise giggled---he looked so like the small boy he was years ago---completely bashful and modest. Even after he had helped save the world from the threat of the Dark Gundam he had denied the endless titles of heroism people wanted to crown him with---merely saying that he hadn't done it all himself and he still hadn't achieved the ultimate glory for Neo-France.

The knight laughed at George's modesty as unbelieving as the rest. Though he had to stop sooner than he would have liked at George's displeasure and the oxygen his body demanded. To the untrained eye he didn't look the least bit winded---but Marie-Louise knew better than to judge his appearance. From her experience with George, she could tell that he was probably masking it---though just how she didn't know.

The knight was rolling his neck a bit when his smirk disappeared. Marie-Louise felt her breath catch in her throat---he had spotted her spying from her own window. Her hand moved slowly to the velvet curtain---her hand felt heavy and the curtain even heavier. She didn't know how, but she was frozen in place---immovable and as cold as stone. She desperately prayed for him not to make George aware of her eyes upon them.

Much to her dismay, he pointed directly at her and looked questioningly at George----for any explanation he could give as to why their country's crowned princess was spying on them.

She saw him turn swiftly his hair twisting around him as he did so. He showed her a face marked with confusion, but then mild shock melted it away. Marie-Louise gasped and knew as she looked into his eyes she was becoming trapped again. Violet orbs had found their target and Marie-Louise could not escape.

Surprise was the message they conveyed to her and she soaked up his emotion—as if she had forever been parched. Marie-Louise's deep pink lips parted slightly in confusion---something else was there---it was faint---too faint---so much so she allowed herself to be pulled in deeper in desperate need and curiosity. Her own eyes glazed over and darkened to a stunning emerald---a little bit more and she could read him---her hope rose---she would know...

"Princess Marie-Louise!"

Marie-Louise's body jumped, knocking over the chair she was sitting on. She turned on a dime, her eyes wide. She let her body sag in relief as she saw who it was---Madame Bleu---her old and ageless handmaiden.

"Miss...I..." She started---apparently as surprised as her Princess. She made her way over slowly and bent down to pick up the chair first---setting it in it's rightful place—letting the usual routine calm her before walking over to her charge. Her slightly wrinkled hand was put on her shoulder and concern was written all over her gray-blue eyes.

"Miss Marie-Louise are you alright?"

"Yes..." Marie-Louise took a deep breath to steady her rapidly beating heart; "yes I'm alright. You just took me by surprise that's all, Madame Bleu."

Satisfied with her answer, Madame Bleu let her hand drop from the blonde's shoulder and walked over to the polished oak chiffonier. She carefully looked through various dresses and evening gowns before saying, "Your father sent word to tell you that _Le Bal_ will start in one hour, do you remember Miss Marie-Louise?"

"Oh!" Memory struck her like lightning. "Yes I do. Thank you for reminding me Madame Bleu." She felt her heart drop in disappointment slightly--- slow suffocation by poilitics and suitors she had no interest in.

"Here we are Miss Marie-Louise," Madame Bleu held up a gown that had recently been fitted for her. With great care she laid it down on the down-filled bed a few feet away.

Marie-Louise walked over to Madame Bleu and turned with her back facing the kind-hearted woman. She pulled her hair up and felt the handmaiden slowly undo the pearl buttons in back. It was a memorized pattern they both learned to comfortably fall into with a few friendly exchanges in between.

Marie-Louise stared at the soft carpet beneath her feet and let her thoughts wander to the knight that stole her heart. She was so close to knowing---just one more endless moment and she would have known the truth---was there love beneath his polite and chivalrous facade? Love for her?

French Translation:

-'Kaeptiv: Captive

-Apres pour La Princesse: After for the Princess

-Le Bal: The Ball (or dance)

That about wraps it up. Let me know if it's any good, or if I misspelled anything (Must appease Bill Crosby with the whole grammar thing).

Stay tuned for the next chapter coming soon!

Chapter Two-Apres pour Le Chevalier 

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	2. Apres pour Le Chevalier

'Kaeptiv

For those of you keeping up with this fic, you may have noticed that I accidentally put up the same chapter twice. (Thanks ShuffleQueen !!!) The system here at is still a little shaky to me so I apologize for any inconvience this may have caused what few fans this fanfic has.

Anyways...enjoy! ;)

This chapter is going to be from George's perspective. Since I plan for most of the story to be in his own POV I felt it only fair to give Marie Louise a couple chapters---although anything could happen. ;)

Once again---I do not own G-Gundam and give all credit to Hajime Yadate and Yoshiyuki Tomina—the geniuses that came up with it---and before I forget (who could?)----Bandai.

Chapter Two---Apres pour Le Chevalier 

George smiled as he caught the foil in his left hand. Monsieur Pont de Noir was one of the more skilled adversaries that had challenged him so far. He was younger than George---by a fair stretch---near Marie Louise's age. George could tell after a few test parries used to judge his opponent's strength that his only flaw lay in misreading his adversary's next movement. He was sure the young knight had never fought an opponent whose emotion wasn't clear on their face. Chibodee had once remarked that he looked near emotionless when he fought and much to serious to have any _real_ fun. Of course Chibodee _always _thought he was too serious for his own good.

George flipped the foil and waited for Monsieur Pont de Noir to retrieve it before taking a step back to formally bow with his sword vertical against his chest. Formalities aside, his former challenger spoke, excitement clear in his young voice.

"Monsieur De'Sand, that was amazing! True perfezione! I consider it the highlight of my term as a Knight of Neo-France to be bested by the man who saved her." He gushed with admiration---pulling his padded tunic down a bit.

George had heard this and much more from many a citizen---wealthy and dirt poor--of Neo-France---and still knew he'd never be used to it. It wasn't all that long ago that he was in the same position as the young knight before him---struggling to make his name known and earn a living besides.

He ran a hand through his hair and kept his face down so as not to appear too flustered. "Monsieur Pont de Noir, I thank you for thinking so highly of me, however, I do believe that I did not win the 13th Gundam Fight for Neo-France. I consider myself no better than the other knights who are coming to challenge me. They have the same chance---if not a better one---than I do of winning the next fight." Saying the words he had in mind let George regain whatever composure he needed to look the knight in the eye again.

Monsieur Pont de Noir was taken a back for second---and then let the hilarity of the situation catch up with him. A loud laugh tore through him and bent over to subdue the ache in his stomach. How could one of the men that had saved the world still have such humility? Surely he realized what he had done?

He looked up briefly and saw George's withering glance and knew he had to gain control of himself. He only noticed afterward that his muscles still throbbed with the need of oxygen---but would not let himself shake.

"Monsieur your humility overwhelms me, you are truly a Rose Knight." When George did not reply he rolled his neck around to subdue a cramp that was forming. A flash of pink in the window above made him glance back. Blonde hair---nearly spun gold---green eyes---a pink dress...

His jaw nearly dropped, that's Princess Marie-Louise. Is she...spying---on _us_ none the less? _Neo-France's_ crowned Princess doing something so unproper for a lady of her status?

He saw her make a move to close her curtain, but than appeared to be frozen---in humiliation or surprise he wasn't sure.

"Monsieur De'Sand...you are aquatinted with our Princess Marie-Louise... right?" Still not taking his eyes off the unbelievable sight in the window.

George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Surely he didn't have any connection to the princess, did he? It wasn't any business of his if he did or not, but he could not deny the feeling he disliked it very much. Noting it would be careless to accuse the young knight, and holding on to some hope he needed to have that it was false, he replied choosing his words carefully.

"Yes, I've been fortunate to have her grace me with her presence many times." Ignoring the bad taste in his mouth the thought produced he asked, "You have interest in our Princess Marie-Louise?"

Monsieur Pont de Noir turned back to George quickly feeling himself grow hot around the collar---both at the tense air from the Rose Knight and the thought of being _that _well aquatinted with the Princess as George was implying.

"N-no Monsieur De'Sand...I was merely wondering why she was so interested in our joust that she had to resort to taking a seat in the window." He slowly pointed to the window above them.

George turned around quickly and did not expect to see Marie-Louise standing glued to the spot in her bedroom window. His violet eyes were wide with surprise---what on earth was she doing spying in the window? If her father ever found out she was doing something so---George couldn't complete the thought.

He looked into her soft bright green eyes---and was once again amazed at their beauty. The longer he stared the more he felt that her eyes were cutting right through him, seeing the emotion he had underneath the shock. The feeling he got when she had followed him to the 13th Gundam fight. He recognized it as pure elation that she had cared enough to be there watching only him---he reminded himself it wasn't proper to feel that for her or even think at this moment that she were staring at _him alone. _

The bad taste crept into his mouth again when he thought that quite possibly she could have been spying on Monsieur Pont de Noir. He wasn't that hard on the eyes after all. Someone closer to her own age would be good for her. Though he heard her voice keep saying that age did not matter---her own mother and father had ten years separating them.

Hope---one always had to keep hoping---a lesson he had learned from his experience with the Dark Gundam. He would always hope she felt---cared---for him...

His heart stopped when her eyes darkened to a mesmerizing emerald. Her eyes were making him feel everything five times stronger than before and heat wrapped around him like a glove---making the air he breathed heavy. He could hear his heart beat slowly in his ears and he was nearly overwhelmed by the soft seductiveness in her glittering orbs---with---no---yes---dare he say...lo...

Before he had a chance to stabilize his train of thought she quickly pulled away from the window, and he was left staring at the transparent glass where she once stood.

""Monsieur De'Sand?"

The voice of Monsieur Pont de Noir pulled George's gaze away from the window and he struggled to regain what little composure he had left. "Yes, Monsieur Pont de Noir?"

The young Knight shook his head, "Can I speak frankly, Monsieur?"

George sighed and relaxed his position a bit---leaning all his weight on his right leg. "Of course."

Monsieur Pont de Noir put a hand on the back of his head before saying, "Monsieur, you may not consider yourself a knight worthy of Neo-France's praise, but I must say that if the eye of the Princess Marie-Louise isn't enough to convince you of how lucky a man you are, then I don't know what will."

"You..."

Without letting George finish he bowed deeply, paused there for second, and turned on his heel to walk away.

George sighed deeply and let his head hang---his orange hair draping over his face. In dismay, he thought Monsieur Pont de Noir the lucky man, for in truth, the Princess had her eye on him---George was sure, and wouldn't let himself think otherwise.

He pushed the nagging of his mind away from her and the emotion in her eyes---unless he wished to be standing there in thought another hour. In which case he would be late for the object had had to pay attention to at the present time---_Le Bal._

__

French Translation:

-'Kaeptiv: Captive

-Apres pour Le Chevalier: After for the Knight

-Perfezoine: Perfection

-Le Bal: The ball (or dance)

For anyone who's curious in the first chapter Madame Bleu's name translated to English is Mrs. Blue (I know that's very creative of me!) Mosieur Pont de Noir translates to Mr. Bridge of Black (Sounds way cooler in French, right?)

So ends another chapter! I really didn't expect to get so many good reviews!

O.K. two isn't so much, but for someone who just started on it means a lot!

A huge Thank-You and hug to SporkGoddess and ShuffleQueen! ;)

I may not get this next chapter up as quickly, b/c school starts in three days! :::sigh::::

But I will try to post the next chapter as soon as possible! Thanks!

Chapter Three: Le Bal

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	3. Le Bal

'Kaeptiv 

Oke-doke sorry it took me so long to update this time around! School started up and things went down hill from there.... but for my new fans here's the next chapter! (The one we've all been anticipating!)

Disclaimer: see chapter's one and two!

Chapter Three---Le Bal

George tried to twist his mouth into what he hoped would be smile, but became more of a grimace. The young court girl he was dancing with didn't seem to notice, however, as she smiled brightly back---her bouncy brown curls moving frantically as she nodded a bit---though George normally wasn't the kind to think so, it looked to him like the locks were trying to escape. He shook his head and mentally scolded himself

"Monsieur De'Sand, thank you for the dance. I hope it's been as pleasurable for you as it has been for...me." Her cheeks tinged pink, but she did not dare look away from the Rose Knight.

"Ah...ah...yes Mademoiselle Clochette du Argentees, however I have other matters I must attend to at present and..." George paused trying to think of something he could be doing---he was a terrible liar and everyone knew it.

Her smile and eyes narrowed slightly, and she took on an incredulous manner. "Surely, Monsieur De'Sand, you do not intend to leave a lady without an escort for the next dance---before, that is---you take care of your matters at hand."

He suddenly realized too late---as he usually did---that she wasn't as naïve and sweet as she let on. These court girls could have you running all directions. How was he going to get out of this one?

Fate must have smiled upon him that day, because suddenly everyone's attention---including Mademoiselle Clochette du Argentees---was focused on the figures descending the royal staircase.

Being a Rose Knight, he quickly passed each awestruck person politely and made his way to the base of the staircase---his shoes being the sharpest sound hitting against the marble floor among the murmuring that hummed and vibrated off the walls.

He glanced up and was not surprised to see---of course---the King of Neo-France---wearing his best attire of red, white, and gold. His old face shone proudly upon his escort---and it was the escort that was causing all the commotion---and George's own heart to stop.

The Princess Marie-Louise had never looked more beautiful as she did now. Her dress of carnation pink was traded in for a faded rose---the cut accenting the curves she had newly required. The bodice was lined with smooth luminescent pearls---being tied at her right hip and allowing the excess strands to hang down the remainder of the bell shape. Her gloves were a faded white to match---and her make-up barely there, except for the light pink lipstick she always wore. In George's opinion, she needed none. To complete her debut, her hair was pulled up into a high pony-tail---letting her thick soft curls of gold hang down---held up by rose ribbon and pearls to pull it all together.

A more perfect vision hadn't been seen since the days of the departed Queen of Neo-France.

Marie-Louise reached the bottom of the staircase, and was delighted to see George waiting for her. The awkward situation this afternoon temporarily forgotten.

Turning, she gave a quick kiss to her father's cheeks, and made her way over to George slowly. Her path being interrupted, by gossips and the like who were curious and wanted a chat. Finally reaching him, she smiled genuinely.

"George, I was afraid I might not see you at Le Bal tonight. Did you have change of heart about all this boring dancing?" She giggled lightly, bringing a gloved hand to her lips to stifle the soft noise.

George smirked and decided to have fun with her and shake formality up a bit---since she had taken the liberty herself. He took her other small hand in his and said, "It's never boring when the one I'm dancing with is as lovely as yourself, Miss Marie-Louise." He lightly put hip lips on her hand---lifting her arm.

Marie-Louise continued to blush even after he had stopped. She knew he wasn't truly flirting with her, but her heart fluttered all the same.

George heard a waltz start up for the next dance and looked hopefully at Marie-Louise---not yet letting go of her hand. "Would the Princess of Neo-France do this Knight the honor of this dance?"

"You needn't even ask, George." She smiled in pure elation---allowing herself to be guided to the middle of the crowded dance hall.

George positioned his hand so that it would barely touch her waist---he noticed that he could feel her body heat through the thin material. He felt her hand go on his shoulder as he took her left up and held it entwined with his in the air.

The music began to swim through the air and George led Marie-Louise to the left slightly and around---her flowing dress making it seem like she was gliding on the smooth floor.

George finally glanced fully into her eyes and remembered the look they held this afternoon. He took a deep breath and knew he could not whisk away the thought this time. He would have to ask her. The music got slower and it seemed to him that this one moment in time was stretching on forever when he spoke.

"Miss Marie-Louise?"

Marie-Louise looked up and noticed nervousness written on his face. "Yes, what is it George? Is something the matter?" She swallowed---hoping it was not what she knew it to be.

George looked down at the floor only to see his reflection mirrored in the polished surface—looking back at him. "I don't mean to put my nose in your affairs, Miss Marie-Louise. However, I...put bluntly, what were you doing taking a seat to my joust with Monsieur Pont de Noir from your window this afternoon?"

Marie-Louise let her smile that was in vain all along slide off her face. Not only was she embarrassed, but disappointed as well. The only dance she had with George since the Dark Gundam incident was being marred by her actions.

"George..." She paused, thinking of a possible answer besides the truth---she had been staring at him---no, more like _gawking at him. _

When she didn't answer him, he prompted her by squeezing her hand with gentle encouraging pressure.

Marie-Louise nearly felt herself melting to his touch, but took a deep breath instead. "I was concerned George, I just wanted to make sure you were unharmed by Monsieur Pont de Noir. He was the most difficult challenge you've had so far."

Though it wasn't _completely_ a lie Marie-Louise already felt guilt plant it's seed in her heart for even considering doing such a thing to George.

George looked up at her once more and felt more relief surging through him than he ever had---close to when the Dark Gundam had been vanquished, but tinged with elation.

"Oh. Miss Marie-Louise, though I know it's foolhardy to tell anyone their fears are unjustified, I assure you I was in no danger from Monsieur Pont de Noir." He grinned at her.

Marie-Louise blushed, " I can't help it, George, you're a very dear... friend... to me."

"I'm honored to be considered as such, Miss Marie-Louise." George said the words easily enough, but barely controlled his voice enough so it would not crack.

The music stopped and time once again came to run at its normal unforgiving pace.

George let go of Marie-Louise and was certain that if he stayed any longer he'd be crushed by the immense emotion she drew from within himself.

He bowed, "Thank you for the dance Miss Marie-Louise."

"The pleasure was mine, George." Her hope rose when he took her hand again.

Without a word led her to the other end of the ballroom---towards the balcony.

Marie-Louise was sure she stopped breathing all together. Heat coursed through her and made her feel like Jell-O.

So caught was she in her emotion, that she nearly ran into George when he stopped at the entrance.

"How is the night treating you Monsieur Pont de Noir?" George asked the Knight in front of him.

The young Knight looked up and was quick to respond, "Fine, Monsieur De'Sand, I must say, though, I did not expect to run into you again this day."

George stiffly pulled Marie-Louise in front of him and saw Monsieur Pont de Noir blush slightly. "I'm afraid I must retire for the night Monsieur Pont de Noir, but would never dream of leaving such a fine lady without an escort."

He forced himself to move her gloved hand towards his, "Would you?" His voice was steely.

Marie-Louise felt like she just had the wind knocked out of her---her gut twisted and she looked up at George in disbelief---only to find his gaze purposefully undirected towards her. Feeling broken her eyes began to glaze over, and her hand went limp in George's firm grasp.

Oblivious to what was transpiring Monsieur Pont de Noir Carefully took Marie-Louise's hand---as though it was glass.

Without waiting for a reply from the younger knight, George walked to the entranceway. Blindly moving through the throng of people.

Letting only one thought circulate through him----better Monsieur Pont de Noir, than a coward to his own emotions. They would both be better off in time---at least—that's what he thought.

Whew! Another Chapter completed! Poor George, afraid of commitment and rejection.

French Translation:

Le Bal: The Ball

Again for the curious folks out there, Mademoiselle Clochette du Argenteees' name translates to Miss Little Bell of Silver.

Till next time! Hang in there for chapter four!

Chapter Four: Un Plus Probleme 

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	4. Un Plus Probleme

'Kaeptiv 

Hi! Sorry this took me so long to get up. School poisons your free time and watches it wither away...that...and I had some difficulty with this chapter. I hope it's satisfactory though! Thanks to all of those who reviewed!

Disclaimer: See Chapter's One and Two!

Chapter Four: Un Plus Probleme 

She felt lighter than air one moment, and then as if a she had swallowed one of her father's marble paperweights. All in a blink of an eye.

Marie-Louise wandered aimlessly on the palace's garden path---the endless roses that surrounded it did not take her mind off of last nights events as she wanted them to---but rather, were a sharp reminder of her Knight's actions.

Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms---feeling suddenly cold though it was a cloudless spring day.

She found herself at the entrance of the garden maze. Its layered walls of greenery towered over her petite form---the slightly shaded inside looking gloomy against the shocking red roses outside it.

Normally, Marie-Louise would have avoided setting foot near the large hedges---her worst fear being that of getting hopelessly lost. But so empty did she feel that the thick aloofness of the maze seemed to call to her.

Her heart screamed for solitude that it rarely needed. ---She took a step.

She reached into the shadow---the humidity surrounded her hand like a glove and coaxed her to enter further.

Hearing soft footsteps in the distance, she took a quick breath and walked forward---the hedge making her bright from dull---and then totally disappear as she made her way further into the maze.

George looked carefully around the end of the rose garden. He was told by one of the many vassals that Miss-Marie-Louise had taken a mid-morning walk through the garden. Though he believed that to be true when he saw her pink dress from the doorway---she was nowhere to be seen.

Aside from feeling very guilty---George desperately wanted to explain his actions to the Princess. Even though he couldn't come up with a very good explanation himself, he had heard somewhere a long time ago that it was best to talk your feelings through---instead of leave them buried to eat you from the inside out.

Glancing at the large maze before him, he knew in truth that was what he had been doing all along. Was he afraid? Is that what you would call it? A Rose Knight being irrationally afraid, just as Miss Marie-Louise was of the maze?

It was sheer _connerie._

Not liking the direction his thoughts were heading---he went back to the task at hand.

Logically, he knew it would be fruitless to enter the maze. Miss Marie Louise had not entered the garden since she was four. George remembered that was the day the whole palace was in a desperate frenzy looking for her for over three hours---at least.

He was one of the last to be asked to go and look for her---being that the King and Queen were becoming beyond worried. He was a small boy of eleven---but already aspiring to be the knight he was today.

It had been near dusk when he found her trembling in high-pitched sobs---lost in the maze. Her short curls frizzy and filled with needles from the hedges. She had clung so tightly to him on the way back that he nearly tripped over his own legs. The small George had to give her a piggy-back ride the rest of the way---while trying to remember which route he had taken to get in there without getting lost himself.

To his small mind each moment had seemed like an hour.

From that day forward, he had been officially been named Miss Marie-Louise's child-guardian and chivalrous friend.

_And_ since then nothing had changed. Whether it be actions such as those of George last night or cruel serendipity---he wasn't sure.

Logic was thrown into the wind as he entered the maze seeking the solitude another kindred heart sought.

Coming to three dead ends could have deterred him---if not for the mood he was in. Desperate though hopeless---and the thick humidity in the between the hedges did nothing to deter it. He just knew he had to reach the center.

Marie-Louise once again heard footsteps coming closer. Surely the palace vassals weren't _that_ persistent? Well if they were---it must have been important. She stood up from the bench careful to step so that the white rose bush in the center wouldn't obstruct her from sight.

She carefully wiped the few tears that had crept out, so as not to make her eyes red and puffy. Putting the final touches on, she pulled the front of her skirt straight and smiled slightly.

Vaguely seeing a figure coming down the narrow pathway she greeted who she thought to be the vassal.

"Monsieur? Or rather, Madame? You have gone to so much trouble to find me so I..." Her breath caught when she saw George standing there.

George stood for a moment taking in her surprised face, and then acted on impulse. "Miss Marie-Louise." He bowed low.

"I..." Her voice cracked slightly. "George..." Her voice deepened and she felt anger suddenly coarse through her. Formality be damned. "...Why would you ever want to look for me? Much less see me?"

He was taken a back a bit, but kept his formality with her. It wouldn't do any good to have both of them taken over by irrationality---and then unable to take things back.

"Miss Marie-Louise..." He reached for an explanation, but then dreadfully realized that he had none to give.

She continued for him instead, "George, I really don't know what to say to you after...after that. I was...oh..." She waved her arms around illustrating her point, "so _hurt_...and here you are with NO explanation NOTHING. I didn't even want to believe you had done that, I DID'NT WANT TO BELIVE THAT WAS YOU!" Her voice shouted at him unrestrained.

George winced and hung his head, ashamed. Though she had very right in Neo-France to be angry---no, furious---with him, the contrast was quite shocking when compared with her normal cheery self.

Not receiving an answer from the Rose Knight, she put a hand to her forehead---as if to gain some clarity she had lost---and then nearly collapsed on the stone bench behind her. Letting her blonde curls fall in her face---hiding any emotion she knew she could not hide.

"Miss Marie-Louise..." He reached out to her slightly, but then quickly pulled back. Shame telling him he was not worthy enough to do so.

He sat on the far end of the stone, and ran a hand through his orange tresses. It would be difficult---but he had to tell her what he was feeling---not a lie disguised as chivalry.

"Marie-Louise..."

She looked up at him with speed she thought she didn't have in her state. _That_ had caught her attention. He had called her by her name---no mark of formality proceeding it.

She hoped now that she would be talking to the George De'Sand she loved. Not the man of late who had been distant and cold through his chivalry---and last night proceeded to hurt her---something she had never thought possible.

When Marie-Louise had looked up, George was saddened to see her eyes glassy and full of pain. She was crying---because of him. He felt very sick at the prospect.

Nearly on instinct, her turned to her and took her small-gloved hand into his. He prepared himself---searching for the words that would paint his feelings.

Marie-Louise was anxious to hear what he had to say, but waited, sensing that he needed to collect his thoughts.

"I can't tell you...I can't explain my actions of the night previous, Marie-Louise" He began softly---more meek than Marie-Louise had ever seen him.

George hung his head---if he looked into her entrapping green eyes anymore he was sure that he couldn't finish what he had to say.

"You have very right, to never speak to me again, but I don't know if I could ever forgive myself then. Even now, I feel guilt shadowing me for the terrible wrongs I've committed you. Not for just my previous crime, but for the past month since we have returned to Neo-France. I had no reason, nor right to be so cold. To further disguise it with friendly chivalry and formality was beyond callus."

With that said, he gained courage enough to look into her deep crystalline eyes, once more.

"This does not mean I do not like you Marie-Louise, I care for you very much. To say that is contradicting what my actions of late have been, however, I can not explain it. I know that's confusing, I'm even confused myself. It would be shameful to ask forgiveness from your kind and innocent heart, Marie-Louise, but that's what I've been since we've returned home, and I would rather mar myself with shame than not ask your forgiveness. You mean too much to me, my Princess."

He looked away from her---feeling so many emotions well up within him that he had hid for a month. All let go of by a few sentences.

He felt one of her warm hands slip onto his shoulder and looked at her again.

Though her eyes were again glassy, they were filled with joy, not pain.

Marie-Louise felt happier than she had ever been to hear him say that. Though it wasn't what she had wanted him to say exactly, hearing him say those last few words more than made up for it in her eyes.

She didn't even remember moving---but it didn't matter.

George was quite shock when she hugged him with all the force her petite frame possessed. The shocked still hadn't worn away when he asked her softly, "Miss Marie-Louise?"

Marie-Louise hadn't even noticed he had said something. The next thing she said she whispered all in one breath into his ear. "I forgive you, George."

Her warm breath on his neck made his skin tingle and ache for more of her touch. So he hugged her back---gently as though she were made of glass. He smiled in contentment and allowed his eyes to shut slightly.

In this one moment---he couldn't deny anything anymore.

"That's impossible. Mireabeu was defeated by the Rose Knight George De'Sand." The King of Neo-France tried to convince his Captain of the Guard Jean Du'Cartel.

The blonde Captain had no wish to tell the story again---it was bad enough--- so he just gave the hard facts---trying not to sweat as he did so.

"Highness, I only know what Monsieur Filer told me. There was a sighting near the _Neo_ _Arc de Triomphe_. He gave the warrant for a search in the 1st _arrondissement_, but nothing came up. It may be a false alarm, but none the less, he wants us to be alert." Jean licked his dry lips and waited for his King's response.

The King sat down in his worn leather chair and rubbed his forehead in disbelief. He sighed, but spoke seriously.

"Not a word about this is to be spoken to anyone. Make sure you and Monsieur Filer understand that clearly."

"Understood, Highness."

"And one more thing, and this is most important." The King of Neo-France looked up at his trusted Captain haggardly.

"Yes Highness?"

"The Rose Knight George De'Sand is not to find out about this, either. Though I would trust him with my life---my daughter's life---there is no need to involve him needlessly and risk his alliance to Neo-France for the next tournament."

When his Captain didn't respond he cleared his throat loudly and the nervous blonde was jolted back to reality.

"I-It shall be done, My H-highness."

Whew! Another chapter com-plete-d!

Hope everyone liked it!

French Translation:

Un plus probleme: one more problem

connerie: stupidity

Arc de Triomphe: Arc de Triumph

arrondissement: district

Jean Du'Cartel-John the Trustworhty

Mosieur Filer: Sir Steam

Till next time!

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	5. Pris Par Surprise

'Kaeptiv 

Hey there! Yes, yes I know I left off on a cliffhanger last time! Bad! Bad, Emerald! Have to admit though, it was fun to write! A lot of talking in this chapter, but I hope its interesting to read! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: See chapters one and two!

Chapter Five: Pris Par Surprise 

What was had he called it again? Oh yes, cruel serendipity.

George surveyed the royal court halls, filled with tapestries of woven gold and silver and endless red carpets, trying to keep his mind occupied with menial work that had always done the trick in the past---but now failed miserably.

He and Marie Louise had taken a step forward from where they had been, true enough. However this past week seemed like a major step back somehow. He sighed again and wished he could feel the warmth and elation he had only one week ago. Things here could move much too slow sometimes. Especially, things of late.

Marie-Louise had been occupied with her first National Conference for Neo-France this week, and had been more of an image popping in and out again rather than greet him hours at a time as she used to. George was aware she couldn't help it, but their dwindling time had been filled with more of the same---chivalrous courtesy---than it had been before.

Making matters worse, Marie-Louise always seemed so tired, her skin losing some of the healthy glow he was used to seeing in her, and her eyes losing more and more of that spark he loved so much. Stress and frustration also marked her face these past few days---making her something she normally wasn't--- irritable.

In the National Conference for Neo-France, all the colonies delegates and royalty alike came together to discuss current happenings with the leader of all space---currently Neo-Japan, and try to get as many opinions, personal attacks, and 'fair' changes made to the new governing system as possible.

George had heard the rumors, endless hours of arguing and meaningless chat all that could make or break a representative or ruler of a country, not to mention the immense pressure from advisors and a permanent black spot on your record if you did fail.

He desperately hoped Marie-Louise would make it to the end of the week---her optimistic and caring view that was loved by the people, and by him, still in tact.

"Senator Shiba, you can not expect the full disarmament of Neo-Germany with all our _small and insignificant _weapons from our country's barracks. By doing so, you would be asking me to hand my country over on a silver platter for whoever wants to take advantage, and believe me there are those who would take advantage. What your suggesting is almost as dooming as it would be to take away your own Gundam for the next tournament!"

"I'm not suggesting that you disarm completely, I'm suggesting that you disarm yourself of those outdated and very hazardous weapons of nuclear power. Surely none of us here consider those _small and insignificant?"_ The Queen of Neo-India's voiced boomed form across the far-stretching conference table.

More voices joined in and soon no one was understandable anymore. The loud sounds of angered voices, grunts and high-pitched voices of outrage left a thick buzzing---growing stronger and more painful with each moment in the flaxen haired head of one Princess Marie Louise of Neo-France.

She once asked herself again why she must endure this slow torture as she grabbed her head through her thick curls try and subdue the pounding in it. It was always the same, a never-ending argument about war, gundams, and money that was _never ever_ distributed equally.

As the fiasco grew, it gnawed away at whatever patience Marie-Louise had to begin with. She bit her lip, nearly causing the glossed up labium to bleed.

She knew their various arguments weren't going to be solved in this meeting, let alone three or four conferences from now---but why couldn't they see all this was pointless! They were all caught up in their own selfish and ignorant webs and nothing would deter them from destroying whatever sanity she had or chance _anyone _had to do any good for their Neo-Colonies.

That was the point of all this the first place---she thought grimly.

The volume grew louder yet and Marie-Louise was near pulling her hair out to feel anything besides the reverberating loops of spasms she felt.

She buried her head in the glossy surface of the wooden table and desperately tried not to jump up and start shouting herself---it wouldn't help.

But then she heard something directed at her father---at Neo-France---and at her heart---that made the pain move with the heat of glowing liquid metal down into her stomach---and become rage.

"WHAT OF YOUR FIGHTER NEO-FRANCE?! NOTHING MORE THAN A COWARD! A COWARD!"

The voice continued on and Marie-Louise's hands clutched tight in her satin gloves. Her green eyes looking like night had crept in and no trace of light could be found.

"HE WOULD RATHER BE A DISGRACE AND FIGHT AS HIS OWN MAN RATHER THAN FOR THE HONOR OF NEO-FRANCE! WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU LET SUCH A LOWLY COWARD SUCH AS THIS FIGHT FOR YOU?

AND YOU TELL ME **MY** COUNTRY'S FIGHTER SHOULD BE DISCHARGED AND GOTTEN RID OF? YOUR FIGHTER SHOULD NEVER HAVE EVEN BEEN ALLOWED TO BE KNIGHT!"

Marie-Louise stood up with more anger and speed than she had ever had in her life. The heavy meeting chair with its steel capped lining fell to the floor making a hollow and low reverberating sound that could have been the sound of Marie-Louise's own heartbeat loud and prominent in her ears.

She had had quite enough.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Her voice was shrill and pierced the shouting conference attendee's own ears with slight chill running down their spines. She certainly had their attention now---the air was pregnant with silence.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU? HAVE YOU NO SELF-RESPECT? HAVE YOU NO COMMON SENSE? HAS THE POWER AND AUTHORITY OF BEING A RULER OF YOUR NEO-COLONY COMPLETELY CLOUDED YOUR MINDS?" She pounded her hands hard on the meeting table all while never taking her accusing eyes off of them.

In turn, they were all a little too shocked to move. The young Princess of Neo-France---who of late had not said anything---was now making eye-popping accusations at the most prominent and for the most part respected leaders in all of space.

And that Princess continued on with the same fervor as before.

"THIS IS NO LONGER ABOUT THE WELFARE OF YOUR COLONIES, OR OF YOUR LOYAL AND **HARDWORKING** PEOPLE, WEAPONS, OR MONEY, BUT ABOUT YOUR OWN PEORSONAL BATTELS BETWEEN EACHOTHER.

YOU CONSTANTLY BACKSTAB AND MAR EACHOTHERS IMAGES AND REPUATATIONS FOR A MADDENING PERSONAL GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE! THAT, IN TURN, HAS LEFT A GOAL OF SICKENING REVENGE RATHER THAN THE GOOD THAT THIS CONFRENCE WAS ORIGINALLY ESTABLISHED FOR!"

Marie-Louise was shaking in anger, and took deep breaths to ease her voice which now becoming sore and hoarse. She would no longer yell at them, but her words were just as piercing if not colder than before.

"And you speak of your Gundam Fighters as if they were no better than the soiled napkins full of grease you use to wipe your mouths with! They are the blood, sweat, and heart of your colonies! They put their lives on the line in a tournament that _you _created to try and bring you closer to glory and preserve and place the names of their countries as honored rulers of all space. It was through their fists that you now sit in your velvet-covered chairs and dictate as you please. Your colonies exist because they fight for them!"

Again, no one said a word. Though most took on an air of nonchalance, their body language trying to convey what contradicted the emotion their eyes. A mix of outrage and shame that let Marie-Louise know she was getting through to them.

She stood up straight, showing all the strength and power her heart possessed and her green eyes were luminous and sharp---it was as if she could see right through them.

"From this, I can only conclude that you no longer care. Your people, your Gundam fighters, your colonies are not as important as yourselves, and I truly do fear the day when all of space knows it."

She let her head hang and her curls seemed to unwind themselves---the built up tension flowed out of her neck. Her fingers felt sore when she finally allowed them to stretch out of their clutched position and she could feel the crescent shaped imprints in her palms.

She gave them one last look and turned slowly away walking out of the conference room and only stopped to close the wide glass doors without a noise.

"My dear I'm very proud of you." The King of Neo-France looked with admiration and his Grey-blue eyes spoke in endless waves pride.

The fact that the conference was finally over calmed Marie-Louise a little but could not erase the fatigue she had held in for the entire week. She did not hear her father father's kind words as she sat behind his desk tracing circles across of his manila folders.

Her father smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I mean every word of it Marie-Louise." He paused and said, "You were just like at your mother at her first conference. Brave and with a heart full of a passion for justice."

Marie-Louise took hold of her father's arm and hugged him, "Thank you _pere_." She smiled though her eyes were glassy.

He pulled back slowly from her and ran a hand through her hair of angel's thread and his eyes looked wistful. "And just as beautiful."

"_Pere..._" Marie-Louise's eyes glittered and she and smiled though a stray tear escaped from her eye.

Without a word the King of Neo-France wiped a gloved hand across her cheek---the fabric of the accessory quickly erasing any trace of sadness from her face.

"I'll leave you to rest a while Marie-Louise, tomorrow promises to be a full day as well." He smiled one last time---bringing wrinkles to his face and letting his age show through before closing the door and heading to his personal quarters.

Marie-Louise sighed and leaned back in the layered leather chair only wanting to rest for a moment, however a violent wind of fate would not let her rest yet.

The cool wind blew in from the window and scattered the papers in the pale folder across the floor the shuffling noise bringing Marie-Louis to her feet.

She nearly collapsed onto the floor and started meticulously picking up each document with heavy fingers.

Her eyes winded when she ran across on very unpleasantly familiar name.

**Mireabeu...**

Her heart started to pound harshly and her blood ran cold. She only had one thought on her mind as she let adrenaline take over and push her off the floor and running out the door...

_George!_

Whew! That's all for this chapter folks! Hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it!

French Translation:

Pris Par surprise: taken by surprise

Pere: father or papa

Till next time!

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	6. Verite Revelee

'Kaeptiv 

Hello again! I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween and Thanksgiving! My costume was Kagome Higuarashi's school uniform from Inuyasha for Halloween, by the way. I love cos-play! Anyway…I wanted to wait till after the holidays to start to write and post this chapter. Much less chaotic that way! Sorry to those loyal few who follow this fic! ;)

Left off last time with Marie-Louise finding her father's file on Mireabeu…that George was supposed to know nothing about…What will happen? It's anyone's guess…

Disclaimer: See chapters one and two

Chapter 6: Verite Revelee

Marie-Louise ran in desperation, her heart pounding in her ears, cheeks terribly flushed red, and every exhausted muscle screaming at her to stop her pursuit.

But she had to find him---she had to find George---if Mireabeu was…

She swallowed---trying to wet her dry throat---and stopped her dark thoughts.

She had looked all over the North Wing of the Royal French Château---her fast pace undeterred---and saw no signs of him.

When she politely--- well more abruptly than polite---but she was filled with a dooming sense of urgency and had no time for chivalry---asked a palace vassal in passing where he made his last address, she had been told he was headed to the South Wing.

Without a second thought---or remark of gratitude towards the vassal---she made haste to the South Wing. Forgetting that the place she grew up in could be rather large and unforgiving to those in a hurry.

Trying not to think about how tired she was, she kept pace and only felt the sore souls of her feet pounding against the marble floor---each step taking her towards her Rose Knight.

--------------------------------------------

George had finally finished his round in the South Wing---it only felt like it took him forever. He sighed and slowly made his way over to the border between the North and South Wings.

He usually didn't mind the long stretches of the Château halls, the familiar monotony making him comfortable even as a child when others his age were afraid to get lost in such a place---he welcomed it. Today, however, it seemed to lull him into a day-dreamlike state.

He found himself thinking of her---again. Of her beauty, yes, but of late her unmistakable, continuous, and hidden fatigue that seemed to overtake her stress-ridden form.

He had often heard from other Knights in service to Neo-France that their charges had been reduced from a once prominent and life-full figure to a stress-worn and nearly unrecognizable persona afterward.

He prayed that their Princess kept smiling---her knee-weakening smile that could make a clouded gray day seem bright with her sunshine.

And if any of those thick nosed bureaucrats dared insult her…

George's gloved hand clenched despite himself.

They would receive a most unpleasant visit from George De'Sand.

Knowing he could do nothing till her return George sighed, letting out his some of his burning thoughts, and lifted his head---noticing he had reached the Border Garden. George took in the marvel before him….

Four, tall, Romanesque columns stood at the corners---making a slightly foreboding greeting to those who did not know their gentle bite. He stepped into the blue opaque stone depression with a slight step---echoes rolling across the surface in waves. At the Border Garden's center were three magnificent trees each with beautiful blooming flowers for the spring season. At their border, three benches of red wood carved with flowers resting on their shoulders stood meekly encircling their magnificence.

George bowed low in deep respect at the bow of each---remembering as he reached the one in the center what each stood for. On the left----that one was the tallest…and oldest. It's fire red petals fluttered proudly in the warm breeze---seemingly not afraid to hit the ground. This old tree had seen a lot---just as the living embodiment of it did---The King of Neo-France.

The last one on the right, George looked fondly upon. Marie-Louise was its heiress. Planted when she was born, the tree produced soft baby pink flowers. Though the smallest, when one would stand near it a sense of calm over took them and the fragrance would take homage in the weave of the visitors fabric for as long as they were within range of the Chateau. It was said that part the young Princess' warm heart and charm protected the heavy-hearted and the worn. George believed to be true the many nights he had spent under it's gentle embracing boughs.

The one that stopped many a visitor in their tracks including the Princess herself, was the center tree, the tree of the late Queen of Neo-France. When her grace had been alive, it bloomed pure and intoxicating white blossoms. The mere sight had been enough to take one's breath away. It enveloped all of the Queen's kindness, patience, and inner strength, but most of all her strong presence that was enough to make even the most hardened solider smile in deep respect.

He bowed once more to the center tree---in reverence to her departed spirit. The warm wind blew once more, but this time they sent chills crawling up George's spine.

It was an odd thing---perhaps some believed a bad _presage_ of things to come that when the Queen had died the tree would no longer produce blossoms. It stayed barren, looking a picture of the dark that surrounded it from the winter of long ago that the Queen had passed on.

George gathered himself as best he could---and drew himself from the ominous figure and sat on the curved bench beneath the peaceful aura contradiction on the right. He looked up and his violet eyes were swimming in the falling pink petals and he was made sleepy from fragrance that filled him. He did a rare thing for a Rose Knight---he relaxed.

So rare was it that only seconds later he heard a sound that made him tense and stand with speed to wildly look around for the owner of the voice.

"Geoooo-r-gg-eee!!!!!!!!"

He saw her running towards him from the South Wing. Her face was pale, the rose of her cheeks missing from the run she must have taken with slight moisture running along her forehead.

He read fatigue in her sluggish movements, along with a thick wind of desperation that followed in her wake made his blood run cold. George swallowed as felt he stomach churn and gnaw at him from the inside carrying a premonition for the worst.

He hadn't remembered moving but he suddenly stood a good few feet in front of her---his violet eyes marked her with immense worry.

Marie-Louise had finally found George. She stumbled the last few feet to him---suddenly feeling all her weight married to gravity and have nerve enough to pull her to the ground. She felt his steady hands hold her gasping form.

She looked up at him---her muscles protesting even the smallest movement. A shaky breath filled her lungs, and before he could utter a word of concern for her well being she breathily uttered one word.

"Mireabeu...he's…." She gripped George's uniform tight in exhaustion and pain from the memories of the man that had plagued the people of Neo-France---and had nearly killed the one most precious to her.

Her head hung despite her efforts to keep exhaustion from taking over her, "…he's in Neo-France."

George wasn't quite sure he had heard her right---he couldn't have heard her right. The feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened and he had broken into a deep sweat…

He looked past Marie Louise, into the long stretching halls of nothingness---he could nearly make out an image he had been trying to erase but would never really fade.

Mireabeu…he was dead…

"Marie-Louise…" George was broken out of his own state of immense shock as he fought to keep her upright as she leaned further on him for support.

"I'm sorry George…" She speech was a heavy with fatigue. She berated herself that getting less than recommended hours of sleep combined with stress and physical activity in her state---was not the best idea she had had lately.

George's mind was whirling but he still managed to keep in mind that one of his duties to his country and himself---was to take care of the exhausted Princess in his arms. Focusing on her, he careful put an arm behind her and the dust full layers of her skirt and lifted her up bridal-style.

"W-wait George…what…" Marie-Louise put her arms around his neck to steady herself.

He didn't reply to her query and silently carried her over to the center bench that sat below her late mother's tree.

He placed her down, having her sit on the worn wood laden bench with care, and then kneeled before her to inspect her for anymore injuries she might have acquired.

Marie-Louise grabbed his hand as it brushed past her tousled curls. "George…" She began, and then swallowed---her throat was still dry. "Don't worry about me George…I'll be alright. A little fatigue never hurt anyone." She smiled against her own irony. She took hold of his already captured hand with her own and placed the crumbled document in his possession.

George looked at her with questions, but then resolve filled him. "Miss Marie Louise, I have to…"

"Take care of me?" She finished for him and looked down. "Monsieur De'Sand," She looked at him again, concentrating on his violet eyes. "As the Princess of Neo-France, I order you to go speak to my father. I've been a weight pulling you down before George; I won't do it again. Don't go against yourself just because of me."

Marie-Louise stood up fluidly showing strength---while still keeping a tight hold on his gloved hands. "And don't try to argue with me, I can see the turmoil written in your eyes, George. Go talk to my father."

George had done it again. He'd underestimated her. It still baffled him how she knew his feeling so well when he'd been trying his best to hide them. He knew what she had referred to when she had said she'd been a weight holding pulling him down.

She was referring to his fight with Monsieur Domon in the 13th tournament. To ensure France's victory, The King of Neo-France had disqualified him from the match. He remembered his fury at what his charge had done. In the end and for the better ironically, fury had consumed him, and he for a brief moment was no longer Neo-France's champion.

Marie-Louise had tried to stop him, reminding him of his honor for his country that he'd fought for so many times before, of the Princess he had defended in the past. He had struck out at her and his shouted words cut her---he fought for himself, and himself alone.

He wasn't so sure that fact held the truth it had before, as now he looked into her magnificent green orbs and found himself drawn in once more.

Tentatively, he gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. His heart felt ready to explode when he felt his lips brush her velvet soft cheek. Though the kiss had lasted a mere second, he could still feel her warmth tingling on his lips as he pulled away.

Marie-Louise stood frozen, wrapped in warmth, and felt like she could fly from feeling so light headed. Her cheek felt cold from the absence of the warmth that once flooded it. She thought that oddly strange when she could feel the rest of her emit heat as a furnace would.

Her eyes sparkled slightly as she lightly hugged George around the waist. She pulled back just as quickly before he could respond to her embrace---the memory of keeping him tied down prevalent in flashing images across her mind.

She was keeping him here when he should be….

"No…I…George…" She tried to smile once more, but George could tell it was strained. "Please go…see my father."

George nodded his head slowly; knowing both that it was he had to do to ease his violent mixing emotions of dread and faint anger at her father as a man, and preserve Neo-France as a Knight.

He let go of her hands with slight regret and bowed low. His long waves of orange hair spun around him as he stood, turned, and ran off and out of her sight.

Marie-Louise felt herself shake violently---and the hard stone depression of the Border Garden hit her knees as she fell from exhaustion. Perhaps, she thought, she was just as bad as he was for hiding her true emotion from the person she least wanted to lie to.

She felt bitter tears fill her eyes and she lifted her head up to the sky to keep them from tainting the earth. The looming dark and bare branches of her mother's once bountiful tree felt as thought they were constricting her, making it hard to breath.

As the world began to blur from her pooled eyes, she spoke to these words to the ghostly crisp wind that wipped her hair around her.

"Pourquoi faises-le douleur meme….mere?"

---------------------------------------------

Wow…I didn't expect that chapter to be so heartfelt. Hope you guys liked it that way though! ;)

French Translation:

Verite Revelee: Truth Revealed

The last phrase in French that Marie-Louise utters means, "Why does it hurt so much, mother?" She's referring to the things that people do for eachother when they're in love. Hint: That will be one of the messages that's prevalent thoughout the story! ;)

Honestly, I'm not so sure that I said that right in French, but I captured the overall effect and I hope everyone likes it.

Till next time!

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	7. La Longue Discussion Attendue et Redouté...

'Kaeptiv

Hello again! Well, as I'm sure you've painfully noted this chapter came really _slowly_. But now that I actually have some free time (haven't heard the word since spring break) I'll be back on track trying to complete this fic. Thanks for having the patience of Gods and or Goddesses. ;)

Disclaimer: See chapter's one and two!

Chapter 7: La Longue Discussion Attendue et Redoutée

George had once believed that the King of Neo-France had held no faults. He would have laughed at his own irony if it had not been at the anger that coursed through his heated veins at present.

After his fight with Monsieur Domon at the 13th tournament he had had previous thoughts that an understanding was reached between the King and himself concerning secrets and the like.

The already crumpled note in his hands made a soft crackling sound as George's hand enclosed itself with a suffocating grip on it.

It was apparent that quite a few things needed a talking about.

George's mind was still a violent storm, and so when he reached the large and well-glossed doors of the King's private study, he stopped to collect his thoughts. It was one thing to and bare down on Chibodee, but the King of Neo-France needed a certain numbing flame. He hoped he would think of a plan in time.

So quietly, carefully, George raised his hand with control to neatly rap on the door. He took a step back---his mind still brewing---and waited for the King's personal vassal to answer.

A mousy looking girl, no more then five feet answered with a polite smile behind the creak of the large door.

"Oh, Monsieur De Sand, it's a pleasure…" She paused to push up the large steel frames upon her small nose, "How may I be of service to the King's Rose Knight?"

George bit back the urge to lose his temper when she mentioned him as the _King's_ Rose Knight.

"Mademoiselle Madeleine, Please announce…to his…Royal Majesty…that George De Sand requests an audience with him concerning a matter of… importance."

Noticing George's apprehension concerning his "matter", Mademoiselle Madeleine answered with a polite curtsy---as was custom in training---and only paused to leave the door slightly ajar such that George could follow.

He didn't wait for her to reemerge as he normally would, and instead followed her into the King's large and rather lavish study. His eyes studied the King of Neo France as he appeared to signing some documents. George vaguely wondered whether there were more letters in that pile just like the one whose corners—he was sure---were leaving imprints in his clutched hand.

Mademoiselle Madeleine gave a quick cursory glance to George before letting her skirts grace the floor in curtsy again before the King. She liked her chapped lips---preparing for the long announcement speech of old.

"Your majesty, King of Neo-France, the Rose Knight under your service, George De Sand, requests an audience with you, under a matter of importance…" She paused to lick her lips again, "Such that your Grace would be implored to…"

The King of Neo-France stopped her at the beginning of what he considered to be a stuffy practice, "My Dear Mademoiselle Madeleine, I think that's quite good enough. Thank you, you may take leave for the rest of the day." He smiled kindly at her.

The short girl beamed, "Thank You, Your Grace." She quickly gave another short curtsy before exiting with a bounce in her step.

As soon as the door had shut the King, placed his pen in the ink well, and intertwined his old hands he gave a brief smile to George. "So then, if my most trusted Rose Knight can not state his objective in front of a mere door maiden...its troubling news indeed."

He paused and looked at George quizzically, his unkempt eyebrows furrowing, "What ails you?"'

George paused choosing his words carefully, picturing the unseen dark ice on the French bridges at night, he choose his plan accordingly. Be seen but unseen, pleasant, but not without hidden frost beneath his breath.

Masked Chivalry came back to aid, not hinder as it did with Marie Louise, this time around. George would make sure of it.

"It's not a matter of ailment, Sire, but rather a misjudgment of trust. Someone whom I believed to be the bumble, turned wasp." In saying this, George fingered the letter in him palm, his eyes becoming as cold as his implication.

His majesty was a veteran of many a negotiation gone sour, and knew that distinct feeling that had just crawled into his study. It was such a feeling that one such as him could not even put it into words. The warmth of the study was gone, the rich reds drained by darkness like ink on a page and teh kIng's gut slightly sunk.

He suddenly spotted a familiar letter in the Knight's hand, his face was wiped clean of the smile he wore, and George could have sworn he was pale.

The King of Neo-France sighed shakily, but looked up at George with a knowing and determined look. He would hold his ground.

George's own hard eyes stared right back, trying to push ice into the King's veins---there was no way he would lose his ground.

This was going to be a long conversation.

With neither George, nor the King of Neo-France greeting the dust at their feet any time soon.

While this conflict runs on, a dark shadow crawls over Neo-France---ready to pounce whether it's resolved or not. Mireabeu waited for no one.

Whew…. Really sorry for the delay everyone…this story was kinda thrown to the wayside while school devoured me whole. Hang in there though…I will finish it!

Though originally I planned to have the whole conversation between the King and George written out…I will use creative license and just omit that part and speed time up a little.

Expect the rest of the Shuffle gang to make an appearance soon as well! In the next chapter I'll have Chibodee Crockett insert some humor back into this fic again for sure! (If there was any to begin with…)

French Translation:

Well not a lot of French words incorporated into this chapter because I wanted to get this out as soon as possible, however the title's always a perk!

La Longue Discussion Attendue et Redoutée: The Long Awaited and Dreaded Discussion

I was actually quite proud of my work on that long…long… title. Hope you like it too.

Thanks for your patience and support!

Sincerely,

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	8. Le plan de George et ironie de Chibodee

'Kaeptiv

This chapter came out to you in somewhat of a rush, because I know I haven't updated in two months. Sorry to leave you all hanging. I'm dealing with some legal stuff, so I'll try to do the best I can!

Thank you all for your patience regarding my neglect. Sincerely, Emerald-Velvet-Touch.

Disclaimer: See chapter's one and two

Chapter Eight: Le plan de George et l'ironie de Chibodee

"So, what? You called me in such a rage I nearly thought I wasn't talking to a rose knight! But anyway, what can I do you for, George?" Chibodee smiled through the telephonic video screen, giving his famous flash of teeth and glint in his eyes that his people loved.

George smiled slightly at the other end of his private chamber in the palace. Chibodee usually knew how to cheer him up slightly in any situation it seemed. Unfortunately today he was a little far-gone for humor; his conversation with the King of Neo-France had not gone as well as he had hoped---George had lost his temper.

"I NEED TO PURSUE MIREBEAU! HIGHNESS, WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THE URGENCY IN THAT?" George's eyes flashed as he finally let go of all the anger he had been holding in. This however, did not elicit a kind response from the French Monarch.

"GEORGE, DON'T YOU MAKE THE MISTAKE OF QUESTIONING MY UNDERSTANDING! I above all people understand! You need not tell me that capturing Mirebeau is of the most importance to the nation. You must exercise patience, not be blinded by your own anger and revenge!" The Kind of Neo-France took a deep breath and straitened out his blue court coat, he sunk back into his chair.

The King's blue-gray eyes pierced through George, and he folded his hands carefully. "You will hereby remain isolated to the palace and it's grounds. Under no circumstance are you to go gallivanting off to find Mirebeau, the imperial soldiers under my charge and I have that under control. If you should fail to follow these restrictions and forget your importance to Neo-France as her Gundam fighter, I will invoke a leave of absence for as long as I see fit." The King paused choosing his next words carefully, "This includes having any and all relation to the people involved with tournament and _palace_ activities no matter how minor. You understand George; this means my daughter as well. You would not be able to see her Royal Highness Princess Marie Louise for as long as I choose to have you on leave of absence."

George felt the heat of his anger melt away temporarily in a cool rush that made his head spin. He tried to digest what the King had just dictated, but as demonstrated by the drowning silence that followed---that was near impossible. Without an immediate rebuttal, the King went back to signing documents in disinterest.

George's thought began to swirl, and he reasoned that this was unjust. Isolated? And if disobeyed, pushed upon him an unexplainable leave of absence on his record? Not only that, but he would have no contact with Marie Louise? These terrible truths served to fuel a new wave of anger in George and he came back to his senses enough to try and shake the ground on which the King's cold proposal stood.

"Highness, I…" He swallowed, "I can not have…" But George did not get far in his thoughts.

"That will be all, Rose Knight of Neo-France. You may take your leave, I'm sure Mademoiselle Madeleine will be more than happy to see you to the end of my private chambers."

And that was how it had ended. George shifted in his seat, disgusted by his own loss of control. He had called Chibodee in no better, if worse, of a state than he was before. He later thought that perhaps Chibodee may not have understood him, but he cared not to try and explain it all over again.

"So? Frenchy? I got most of wha' ya' said before, but would you mind explaining what you would have me do?" He quickly added a few more words when he saw George's peeved look, "I mean, um, just so we're on the same page and all?" Chibodee smiled with caution and an eyebrow raised.

George sighed, so much for only having to explain it once. "My King of Neo-France made it very clear that I was not to leave the place premises or any surrounding territories of it, to go in pursuit of Mirebeau. I believe I explained to you, the circumstances surrounding the breaking of that rather, forceful, request?" The knight paused and ran a hand through his hair, he knew from experience to stop every one and awhile to make sure Chibodee didn't get the disease he humorously called 'information overload'.

"Yeah, yeah you did." Chibodee didn't smile this time---he in fact had a very sorry look to his face. "Knowing you Frenchy, I would have guessed that you would have gone after Mirebeau in a heartbeat. Seeing as you did want you wanted to last time risking your 'Knight-sy' title to fight Domon in the 13th tournament. But the old fart had to throw _her_ into this whole mess too, huh?" Chibodee half shrugged in humor.

George grinned a little, "Yes, if not for Miss Marie Louise I probably would have gone off, as you say, 'in a heartbeat'."

"When are you going to stop calling her 'Miss' and just admit you like her already?"

"It's a form of respect for my country's Princess, Chibodee."

"That's what you always say and we all know its 'BS'. I mean, come on! Argo, stony, wouldn't laugh for all the money in Neo-Russia, Argo, proposed to Natasha before you even said a word to Marie Louise about _anything._ Geeze, and I had good money placed on you two, too. Now, I owe Domon, and Sai an impossible amount that my girls are going to take my head off for and, let me tell you I…"

"Chibodee!"

"…And then they said, 'Chibodee no more betting, you always lose all our money!' But you know, as well as I do that a man can't possibly lose _all_ the time. I mean, eventually his odds have got to improve, and then you know what? They'll beg for my forgiveness and ask to share some of _my_ winnings! Well they've got another thing coming if they think that…"

"CHIBODEE! You're losing focus! None of that matters!" Seeing Chibodee freeze and mouth a sad looking sorry, he ran a hand through his hair and took deep breath.

"Look, I'm sorry, you know I don't do the 'serious thing' very well. But I'm willing to give it another shot and follow your instruction to the letter this time, O.K.?" Chibodee relented trying to put a convincing look on his face. Seeing George's incredulous look he added, "I promise no more interruptions till I get it right and go kick some Mirebeau ass!" the purple haired American raised a mock-fist in the air.

George looked up and the blinking screen again and calmed down a little, being reminded why he put up with all of this in the first place---Chibodee really was a good friend at heart. "Alright. Let's start again."

Chibodee smiled again and listened with vigor this time to please his stress-ridden friend.

"His highness will not let _me_ leave and go in pursuit of Mirebeau, however that does not mean that _you _can not in my place. I aim to implore the help of the Queen of Spades, Ace of Clubs, the Joker, and of course the King of Hearts to aid me in my search of Mirebeau. I know the short notice will not speed your arrival, but the cause is urgent. The King must not know of your arrival, so use discretion. Chibodee, I will be counting on you to deliver this message to the letter to the rest of the Shuffle Alliance. I can not risk any more messages being intercepted and then any hope of success dying with this chance. I will, meanwhile remain here, as ordered, watch over any activity I considered suspicious and linked to Mirebeau, and without fail keep appearance and perform my usual other duties as Rose Knight." George took a quick breath, "I ask this of all of you because I am at a loss as of what else to do. Not only does my personal affair ride along with this, but the security of Neo-France and possibly the 14th tournament." He licked his suddenly dry lips, and calmed his pounding heart. He let the seriousness of what he had just said sink in for Chibodee and for himself.

George finally gave a cursory glance to the Neo-American. "Chibodee, did you understand all of what is to transpire?"

Chibodee had a look like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights that made George's stomach sink. "Uh, well…" Chibodee took off his jean jacket---he wondered briefly how it had gotten so hot all of a sudden. "I kinda lost ya' at 'I aim…' Heh heh…" George noticed for the first time that he had a pad and paper out and was attempting to take notes, and he groaned.

"Maybe you could say all that again? But more slowly? I mean that was a great speech and all but I just couldn't write it all fast enough." Chibodee scratched his head and twirled his pencil in his fingers.

George hit his head on the message panel below the screen and he groaned again, "Chibodee, for God sake, this is the 23rd century! You could have RECORDED the entire conversation!"

"Oh?" Chibodee did nothing to hide the surprise on his face, much to George's dismay. In true Chibodee fashion he tossed the pad and pencil into the air and behind him and smiled. "O.K., so now all we have to do is say that all over again. How simple is that?" When George's head didn't move from its position on the message panel he tried again. "George? Are ya' with me buddy, we gotta get this done!"

George merely groaned in response at his friends unseen irony. He prayed for the day to end with no other mishaps or terrible surprises at its end. Unfortunately for our Rose Knight the eve would not bring him the peace he desired.

And another chapter completed! Fear not, I will keep up with the rest of the chapter's in my notebook this time.

French Translations:

Only one French translation this time, more coming next chapter, I swear!

Le plan de George et l'ironie de Chibodee: George's Plan and Chibodee's Irony

Before I forget, I want to say thank you to ShdaowSorceress who got me off my lazy butt, forget my troubles and get back to writing this story! ;)

Till next time!

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


	9. Le message Continu et la Torsion d

'Kaeptiv

Yay! I'm back! Sorry you guys had to endure such a long wait! I really struggled with the direction this story was taking. It could have gone two ways in this chapter, really. Not just the one plot twist I did add, but another could have been in it's place and completely changed the outcome of the story! In any case, here's the long awaited 9th!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Chapter Nine: Le message Continu et la Torsion d'une lame à un Coeur

"So…let me get this straight then, Bro. We're going to Neo-France in search of some dude that tried to become Neo-France's champion before by nearly killing off George, and went totally and completely insane? Not to mention that he was supposed to be, like, dead?" Sai Saishi, Neo-China's gundam fighter, looked perplexed as he ate more rice feverishly in front of the tele-screen.

"Hai…" The King of Hearts replied tiredly in his native tongue. George's message had been copied over to him at three am in the morning, though Rain had reminded him that it was probably late afternoon in Neo-America. The Frenchman rarely had asked for any favors and Domon felt the urgency in his request to pass the message on as quickly as the receiver could---which happened to be Sai.

"Bro, I mean he's dead…right? It's insane that the dude could be waltzing around Neo-France causing so much trouble." The young boy swallowed a wad of Lo-Mein before adding, "I mean, what'd Sis, say?"

"Rain? She said it would be impossible, and thought it was just someone impersonating Mirebeau to gain attention for some sort of cause." He yawned, "That's Rain, always being logical." He smiled lightly through fatigue as he thought of his newlywed wife.

"Yeah, that makes alotta sense." But Sai Saishi's expression hadn't changed from confusion. "But if it was just a dude pretending to be him, why is George so worried then?"

"I don't know, Sai." Japan's Gundam-Fighter shifted his position in his stiff chair. "But if it has George that worried, and the king of Neo-France is keeping him locked away in the palace, it makes me think that they're trying to cover their tracks." Domon didn't look as tired as the thought swirled in his mind. "Last time, from what George told me in the 13th tournament, that Neo-France's government hadn't really done much about Mirebeau and dismissed him without much thought. When Mirebeau came back to Versailles and tried to endanger the lives of the citizens, and take George's own life---they knew they had made a pretty serious mistake."

"Oh," Sai nodded as he finished the rest of his meal, "I get it, they don't want to make it seem like they aren't doing anything…like before and then have to pay for not taking the threat seriously."

The Shuffle Leader smiled, "Right, Sai, you've got it."

"So then, we get our butts down to Neo-France. A.S.A.P. and kick the conspiracy wide open, right Bro?" The young boy smiled through the sauce and rice on his face.

"Hai, send the message on to Argo, would ya Sai? Arigato." Domon began get up and reached to turn the screen off.

"Awww…he's no fun. Come on Bro…"

Domon looked tiredly at the recently turned teenager, "Sai, it's three-thirty, and I need to wake up at five, Rain'll kill me as it is for not getting enough sleep. Besides," He gave him a pointed look, "You remember how grumpy I was waking up every morning for the tournament? I doubt you'd want a call from me then."

The boy's shoulders slumped in defeat and he hung his head, "Fine, say 'Hi' to Sis for me."

"Bye, Sai."

"Bye, Bro."

* * *

George had been making his way around the palace for the last for his patrols that evening, but had told by the Princess' private vassal, Madam Bleu, that Marie Louise was suffering from extreme exhaustion, and had fainted.

With a slight lag in his step, George had followed the aged woman briskly to her Highness' quarters, fearing the worst as a million thoughts ran through his head. Mirebeau was on the loose, Marie Louise had fallen, and the dark shadow that had been prevalent the last few nights had planted a seed of gloom in everyone's hearts. It was like walking through a chocking fog.

To make matters worse, he had had no luck with his constant surveillance of Mirebeau. He could do nothing inside the Palace walls---dull as it was in appearance and spirit these days. Trapped here, he felt a darkness that pushed him down and ate at his hope and withering time.

At these foreboding prospects he had made a fatal decision. One that had him lay awake at night ever since it had come to him. Though, the very thought of it made him feel choked with lack of air, the idea kept scratching at the inside of his skull. The rationality of it all eventually wore him down, even though his heart still protested doing and saying such a cold thing to his Princess.

Marie Louise, the light of the people, had already fallen. If he were to tell her the workings of mind, it would surely plummet her in her own darkness. Hadn't he already hurt her enough? He clenched his fist, and then sighed. It would be a disabling turn for the country, and George's own heart. What would happen in this uncertain time of darkness without the light?

"I went to find our Rose Knight, as soon as I heard, Monsieur De Sand." Madame Bleu said her face appearing older as her brow creased in more worry. "My Lady has turned pale and has lost appetite. It is a cruel irony…" She stopped suddenly as the sun sank and they fell into dark twilight.

George was pulled out of his thoughts by the uneasy shiver that ran up her spine, and swallowed to quell his anxiety. "What irony, Madame Bleu?"

"She feels as cold as," She licked her worn lips, "her late majesty did so many years ago…" Her old eyes glazed eerily and her pace slowed.

"What are you insinuating, Madame Bleu?" The old vassal turned to him as she caught the ice in his voice.

She stopped fully and turned to him, "Nothing, Monsieur. Merely that I feel such a similarity is a bad omen. The lifeblood of Neo-France, her people fear the parallel. Surely, Sir Rose Knight, you have felt the cold surrounding Neo-France, even when our sun is shining? The dark shadow?" She wrung her apron through her hands as she looked at the ground. "It makes us uneasy…"

George didn't need to be told; he could sense the people's apprehension in the recent scare with Mirebeau. Now, with the beloved Princess in such a condition and as cold as her own mother in her…death---it was a frightening parallel indeed. Added to what still needed to be said to the captivating young Princess---the thought made his stomach lurch and his head to feel light.

He took a deep breath and put a hand on Madame Bleu's shoulder, "Our Princess Marie Louise is only suffering from exhaustion, and no mater how good a similarity there is she will pull through." Seeing the color come back to the vassal's cheeks he added, "Lead the way if you please, Madame Bleu."

"Yes, Monsieur." She curtsied and led the way with heavy echoing footsteps up the stairs to Marie Louise's quarters in the darkening twilight.

George hesitated to follow; he had been avoiding meeting his Princess for quite some time now. The terrible decision he had come to was what had stopped him in his tracks, one that he knew would poison her light further---and threaten to put it out. But it had to be done…if not…he shook his head.

Walking on, he prepared a calm façade for a final greeting.

* * *

The Rose Knight felt the door shut quietly behind him as Madame Bleu exited leaving him and Marie Louise with a chance to speak. He walked with soft-footed steps over to her bedside to see she was barely awake.

"Miss Marie Louise…" He brushed a messy curl out of her face as he leaned over. What Madame Bleu had said was true, she was pale as fresh porcelain and as George briefly moved the rest of her stray curls from her face he painfully noted that she was indeed cold.

He tried to smile for her despite the sharp pain he felt in his gut, "You should be sleeping, and didn't _Toubib _Patrice tell you to get rest as immediately?"

Marie Louise nodded slowly, "Yes, but I wanted to wait for you, George." The smile left her lips and her vibrant green eyes grew dull, there seemed to be a shadow over her as well, George tightened his grip on her shoulder lightly.

"You shouldn't have Miss Marie Louise, really…I was only making rounds." He knelt on one knee at her beside, and took the traditional gesture of respect with his head bowed. "A Rose Knight isn't worth the health of his Princess."

Marie Louise sighed; he still couldn't open up to her could he? Would they ever stop this endless masquerade? Perhaps in time, the optimism of her mother kept telling her, but her heart had doubt…

"You haven't been by to accompany me for our lunches lately…why the sudden change? I rather miss when we could talk so freely." She smiled despite what she was implying to him.

George's heart sank, "I'm sorry Miss Marie Louise, I hadn't known that I would be so busy." He knew it to be a lie; he had purposefully avoided their luncheons of the past week. He felt his stomach twist in a knot, the courage he once had was dwindling. Could he really tell her? If he did he knew he would break her.

"No, no I believe you knew you'd be busy…" She looked away from him and out window: with a painful acceptance. She could feel George's shamed and apologetic eyes upon her, but she dare not look into his them. She knew if she did, she would be lost in the beauty of his amethyst pools---and she also knew that she would accept the comfort there and cry.

George let go of her hand, and felt cold. But he needed that cold to say what needed to be said. He felt his heart sink and his gust twist, and swallowed to quell the feelings that poured from his conscience. It was the desire of his heart to not to hurt her against the rational mind that knew what must be done.

In the end---his mind won the losing battle.

"I won't play fool, Miss Marie Louise. I know you have had knowledge for a time concerning your father's decree about myself." He saw her turn back, but remained kneeling motionless, staring at the ground and trying not to picture her innocent face as he said,

"I must leave here, I must leave you, _ma plus chère Princesse_…" His voice shook as he heard her try to hide a strangled whimper.

And suddenly the silence came, the darkness pursued, and the light of Neo-France burned out in the emerald eyes of it's young Princess. Frozen was she as her knight, her warmth left her while she felt hot trails of liquid salt pour down her drawn cheeks.

He closed the door. The dull click resonating in the hollowness that the Princess felt.

But she dare not move. It had to be a dream, a lie. She sat up in her bed suddenly, her head spinning. He would not…she rubbed her hands together over and over again, the continued friction making them feel raw. It wasn't possible…she couldn't feel this much pain.

Marie Louise could feel her breath coming in deep rasps, and her cold body shake out of her control. On instinct she lurched her tired body out of bed, and took a few numb steps towards her door…

"George…" Her voice sounded strangled.

She grunted as her body met the floor, and she realized that she lacked the strength to go after him. He was lost to her…_son amour._

The realization was overwhelming and she let herself ease slowly into the carpet. She felt something break inside her, and the world seemed darker.

She continued lying there, unfeeling, for how long she didn't know---her dry lips repeating an ache in heart…

"_Réapparaître... mon amour... j'ai besoin de vous. Pourquoi? Pourquoi? Pourquoi? George..."_

"_Pourquoi?"_

Her soft cries remained unanswered as her limp her reamined on the ground reaching for the door.

_

* * *

_

More to come later for Kaeptiv'. Another apology goes to ShadowSorceress who waited very patiently while I battled with two possible outcomes for this story. I knew that at this distinct point I could have the story go completely in two different ways. I chose this, mainly because it's much more romantic, angsty, and it's what we want to read right? Anyway, here are your translations:

French Translations:

Le message Continu et la Torsion d'une lame à un Coeur: The Continued Message and The Twist of a Knife in a Heart

_Toubib: _ This means doctor. Actually, in the other plot line I could have had, Doctor Patrice would have played an active role. Not that you need to know, but he's the Royal Family's chief doctor. Rather old, but still very sharp.

_Ma plus chère Princesse: _My dearest Princess

_Son amour:_ Her Love

"_Réapparaître... mon amour... j'ai besoin de vous. Pourquoi? Pourquoi? Pourquoi? George...":_This very dramatic statement Marie Louise utters repeatedly means, "Come back…my love…I need you. Why? Why? Why? George…"

_Pourquoi: _(Obviously means) Why?

I'll be back no worries, now that I have this plot figured out for definites more updates will be on the way shortly.

Bye!

-----EmeraldVelvetTouch


	10. Une Réalité Signent Le Gris

'Kaeptiv

Wow, this took way too long to get up here. I _really_ wasn't kidding when I said school killed your free time…heh. In any case for those of who aren't completely exasperated with me by now…here's the next chapter of _Kaeptiv'. _

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Chapter 10: Une Réalité Signent Le Gris

George De'Sand knew it by now. Walking around the muted streets of the third district of Neo-France he knew it like the darkness of his own shadow defined by another mock-oil lamp. His conscience was being played like the taught string of a yo-yo; coiled, tight tension ridden, and then to a loosened in a depression that made him feel drained.

He had to convince himself, again, that he had done the right thing. A task not easily done when two or three cold glares stared him down from behind: a kick to an already injured dog, more or less.

Looking behind him, Chibodee's dislike for the Frenchman's actions was painfully obvious. The shrew American walked his face armed with a glare and his leather cowboy boots made the loudest sound for miles at this hour of the night. He would have looked funny on any other occasion, if it weren't for the ice he held in his normally joking eyes.

Argo made no point to look anywhere at George, and instead, chose to set his stony façade far ahead of them. He and Natasha had been talking in heated low tones ever since visiting the Princess with such a disabling darkness in her heart. And since then, Argo had not looked at him once; George knew this to be how the gruff Russian gave respect to his companions. George missed the acknowledgement more than he thought he would.

As for Domon, the Shuffle Alliance leader, the King of Hearts, perhaps the person the Rose Knight respected most out of anyone, he was quiet. Quiet of all things: Domon Kasshu. It didn't really sit well with anyone. The newly engaged Japanese couple had been the first to arrive, and, ironically, the most split on their take of George's decision.

Rain held firm in the belief that George should stay with Marie-Louise and immediately apologize for driving the warm-hearted Monarch to such a state. Rain's stand was based on her deep feelings of loyalty, friendship, and a genuine care for George's once-charge. Domon on the other hand, tried his damnedest to see why, generally, the _most sensible_ of the group, as he put it, would do something like that to the person Domon knew he would give his life for.

Domon was split in every sense of the word, he could see what lead George to do it, and why, in a desperate way, it made sense. But, and this was a major but, he told George, "I thought you knew, it couldn't come this…shouldn't have come to this at all." He had sighed raggedly glancing from the wall and back to George again, "Mirebeau is dangerous…but he is _one_ man: Marie-Lousie is your…" He paused, "Should be what wakes you up in the morning: life. That's what Rain is to me…" He paused, trying to not to stumble when saying something so important, "I thought…wasn't that? Isn't that what she is to you?" George had been floored. Never had he expected the King of Hearts, despite the irony in him being called so, to be saying the things he was.

The silence that followed was thick, choking, where George could feel the pound of his heart in his ears, his mind racing in confusion, in a desperate search for answers. But George had none to give…he had lost the clarity of emotion he once held in his heart. How had the warmth he held for her have become so unreachable, so unclear, so quickly?

Receiving no answer, Domon spoke with a bite in his words, "Before, before you would have answered me right away: Hai." He held a look in his eye as if ready to fight the Rose Knight, but simply said, "I don't know why the hell Mirebeau's back, but I do know you've lost something. You look like shit: you look like I did when Rain left with her father to space. It took me awhile to find out just exactly what that was, and I regret every minute of my stupidity."

He put a hand on George's shoulder, "I hope you figure it out sooner than I did. And because of that, I'll help you hunt down Mirebeau."

That had been a whole twenty-four hours ago, and Domon's words still struck him just as harshly. Out of all the glares, the silences, that speech had probably hurt the most.

Because he now knew it was true, he let out a shallow breath as he turned again. The truth was the hardest to hear, Marie-Louise had told him that once. He just hadn't believed it then.

With his three companions following him in a maddening silence, their presence sapping him of his conviction as much as his own guilt, he came to a sudden stop. And looked aimlessly around for minute, gathering his bearings. And if he hadn't…he probably would have never seen the gray, nearly translucent figure blending in with the darkness, maybe twenty feet ahead.

He held a shaky gloved hand to pause his staid companions. His breath caught in his throat suddenly and he felt as if he had swallowed cotton: the dryness in mouth was certainly there for it to be so.

"What gives Frenchy? I—." George silenced him with a jittery wave of his hand, and Chibodee raised an eyebrow for sarcasm more than confusion. Argo merely gave a stiff pointed nod to the figure in the distance only blinking when Chibodee mouthed an "oh…"

It was then that Domon appeared at the Rose Knight's side, analyzing the figure for all it was worth in the low light. Squinting slightly, he gave a bitingly clear whisper to George, "We don't know for sure…not yet…" A pause of calculating hesitation, another rapid glance, "Anyone, could be anyone."

"At this hour of morning? Whether it be he, or not, it doesn't make for a clean slate." George whispered back unable to mask the restrained haste in his voice. He no longer cared to play the detective, now was the time for action he was certain. The adrenaline coursing through his veins, spreading with the heat of wildfire and the vibrant buzz of tension was enough to tell him so.

Argo merely grunted lowly as Chibodee bluntly broke the seconds worth of a pause. "Whatever, whatever, all I know is while we stand here arguing about yes's and no's he gonna…" The stunned American blanched as what he was about to say came to life before him,

"…run, run away…RUN AWAY! He's getting AWAY!"

George burst forth like a mad thing as Chibodee's voice cut through the thick silence in the street, shredding through the peaceful calm. The wild gesticulations of the American were the last thing he saw as he gave a half-glance backward and followed the panicked figment in the blurred labyrinth he only cognitively recognized.

George saw the man as clearly ahead of him as he would have heard the distinctive ring of a crystal wineglass. The residual hum stuck within him, driving him forward. It was just the two of them now, in a chase against attrition, time, and the inky gray of the French streets.

That's all for now folks, I wanted to get this chapter up as fast as humanly possible, so, there are no French translations except for the title, which means:

Une Réalité Signent Le Gris: A Reality Check in the Gray

A sincere thank you to those who continue to review and get me off my butt (and distracted from schoolwork as the case may be, but not that I mind….) and continue doing what I love best: fanfiction.

And now a parting quote from my dear friend:

"When life gives you lemons: write fanfiction."

G.F.

Many thank you's,

Emerald-Velvet-Touch 


	11. Le Troisième Jour

Hey, sorry I haven't updated in forever and a half. Let me know what you think of this chapter since I have put up anything long time. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Marie-Louise woke up on the third day. The third day since he had left. She felt, heavy. Found it hard to push her chest up and down for air, found it hard to move, found it hard to speak, to do anything. The world watched her in muted tones and gray shadows, and that suited her just fine. It was one less thing she cared about now that he was gone. What was sunshine to her? What was light if she could not see? 

Her eyes blurred and she grasped the cover above her tightly in frustration. Hadn't she said she would not think of this anymore? Hadn't she said she'd…not think of him? She swallowed her tears and turned to the other side.

The mirror beside her showed a reflection each day. Something she couldn't recognize. Her blonde curls were unkempt, dull and the shine was gone. Unhealthy pale skin peeked out from under her gown looking years used rather than at the bright age she was. Perhaps, the most changed though, were her eyes. She recalled that they used to be as reflective and life full as polished emeralds…but what stared back at her now was anything but. A dark, bitter green cute through her. Blackness circled the edges and the color was that of dead pine. In the midst of her gaze, she wondered…just briefly, if he would recognize them as the same eyes he told her that he…

She clasped her eyes shut. She had done it again. Why could she not stop thinking of him? Even now, as heavy, as hollow she felt in her heart, and as bitter somewhere deeper…she could not stop. She dug her head deeper into the pillow, face down…on the brink of her thoughts she thought herself moronic. She did not even have the courage or the strength anymore to resist herself. Her own inner thoughts.

There was a soft knock on her door. Then another. "Marie-Louise?" She vaguely recognized it as the former Rain Mikamura, now Rain Kasshu …as she was now she still had sense left to hear the Japanese accent. "I'm going to come in, alright?" And she did so.

Lifting her head slightly, Marie-Louise noticed that Rain had switched back into that old pink dress. It was oddly comforting, somehow. The Japanese mechanic stepped forwards at the side of her bed. "Someone else has come to see you, today." She notified her concisely. Marie-Louise silently thanked the heavens that Rain was the only who hadn't scolded her for her breakdown as of late. And she never said anything more than was necessary out of polite conversation. A reminder, again of him before the Rose Maze, but…still better than speaking of what she knew would hurt her.

Running a hand through her short chocolate hair, Rain smiled slightly down at her and leaned with two hands on the edge of the white bed. "Can you guess who it is?"

"No." Marie-Louise's sounded airy and barely there. "And it's too much to hope that it could be…" She didn't finish, but by the look in Rain's eyes she knew nothing more needed to be said.

Rain put a hand on her shoulder. "Marie…" Sighing, Rain tried to smile for her. "I'm know it'll be someone you'll be happy to see," As she felt the princess' forehead with the back of hand she added, "But you still feel cold."

"So Madame Bleu tells me too…"

"What else does Bleu-Dono tell you?"

"That it's as dark inside, as it is out there…" Rain didn't reply to her, but the Neo-French monarch laughed bitterly, "so I'm not missing anything, it seems." She took a deep breath, "Not a _thing._"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." A booming voice cut through the silence. And Allenby Beardsley walked in, greeted by the shocked face of Marie-Louise.

* * *

"That's not it, that's not what we wanted to do." The man struggled to form words, but George didn't relinquish any pressure from his collar. 

George took another short breath, the irritation of catching the man seeping through him.

Domon was next to question the man; he could tell it wouldn't take much more for George to lose hold on the reigns of his patience. The Japanese man licked his lips and hoped that Rain was having more luck with Marie than they were with this embodiment of a dead end. "So, you're saying that just because you slinking around in the dead of night, and have connections to Mirebeau….that it wasn't his goal you were working for?"

"Yes, yes, exactly so." The gruff man choked out. His worn and dirty trench dangled from his form and his eyes appeared red as well as gray from George's hold. Domon noted that his hair was greased back by his own oil; he must have been hiding for awhile.

The Russian in the group merely stared at the man; lost in his own ponderings. Chibodee stood by his left, although closer to George. The American was now, as always, the most vocal.

"How could you work for the dude then? Why help him if it isn't what ya wanted to do?" Chibodee accused him with a pointed finger. "It's one thing to work because you've got the same thing in mind, but I just don't get it."

"I—I was merely…I wanted money, yes, money."

The amethyst eyes closest to the man's own glared in disagreement. "One does not merely work for such a man as Mirebeau solely for money. The name Mirebeau was left with no prospects and no holdings on any estate after he was killed. You have no justification." George let the man's feet touch the ground but did not relinquish his hold.

"What if he had a backing?" It was Argo who finally spoke.

Domon turned to the grim Russian, "What do you mean?"

"Many times in piracy if the ring leader has no funds then it's someone with greater power who supplies him. To this end, he works not for the leader's goal, but his own by pulling his strings."

Silence, save for the groans of their captive, fell upon the group. It was a suffocating prospect. Anyone in Neo-France could be backing Mirebeau…they needed only influence and a silver tongue. Their search was doubled, perhaps even tripled.

George felt the heat of his anger leave him for the cold whispers of anxiety. There were too many with such power in Neo-France…each cobblestone leading to the palace was practically inscribed with the name of some gold-toothed entrepreneur who had long ago financed the construction of the colony. Long family ties and even older alliances could have backed the name of Mirebeau long ago; old money could be the source. No, even new money could have. George felt himself grow dizzy: it was too many new questions.

"That someone funding you couldn't be just anybody. If you didn't work for Mirebeau's goal, then you must have for the guy pulling his strings, right?" Chibodee broke the silence with a question to the man in George's hold.

"I…that is…" The man shook and looked towards the ground, "…yes."

"Alright! Now we're getting somewhere!" Chibodee pumped a fist into the air.

Domon cut off his celebration, "Hai, hai…but we still don't have a clue who that someone would be. There's…a lot of bureaucrats with money in Neo-France. It's not the richest colony for nothing."

"He must know who that is. If indeed you're working in accompaniment to the man with strings in his hands…you must know." George asked the man trying not to sound too desperate for information; he had a bad feeling that his eyes betrayed him.

The man looked frightened and considerably paler. "I…Monsieur, I beg of you Rose Knight of Neo-France…if I tell you I shall be killed…I cannot."

"There's ways to fix that that don't end in your death," Answered Domon for George. "We have no plans to kill you, any at all. We'll, Argo, Chibodee and myself, will take you to the palace. You won't be hurt…just tell us who it is."

The man did not look any more reassured, but he swallowed, and said, "There is a man…h-he has influence over legal documents for Neo-France, he sits behind the great minds at the conference table…yes. He…is of another party that opposes the monarchy. The leader of the _La Faction De Faucon_; M-monsieur _Défit En Acier_ the World's Affair Advisor of the Noble Family of Neo-France."

George felt his mind go absolutely numb. "You're…a liar. That cannot be true…. _Vous se trouvant, noir hearted le traître!!!" _George pushed the man's body against the alley wall…where he fell unconscious. _"Est-ce que par un dieu, que j'ai fait? Je suis parti du repaire du lion avec la proie à l'intérieur. Dieu me pardonnent!" _

"George?" Chibodee looked on helplessly as the proud freshman seemed to crumble before his eyes. Though he did not understand his words, he could feel their deep, true sorrow and undeniable anguish. You didn't need to know French to know the sound of self-loathing.

"We need to get back to the palace." Argo's voice cut through the thick air that was becoming ripe with dawn.

Domon nodded, but looked worriedly at George. "Come on, George. You heard him, we have to go back. Everyone's in danger." His voice was calm, but grave.

George clenched his fist, and let out half of a laugh in bitterness. "Me, Monsieur Domon? A man that willingly cast himself out of a place cannot hope to reenter at a whim: I am exiled."

"W-well…" Chibodee began, "If you don't look like yourself, then they can say you're you, right?"

George was confused enough to be slightly drawn out of bitterness. "Come again?"

Domon smiled, "He's saying that a disguise is just what we need." He nodded towards the man lying on the ground, "That one."

* * *

Thank you to everyone who waited soooooooooo long for me to upload this chapter. I really have no excuse for my laziness. In any case, I hope you like it. The plot thickens. And don't worry; the fluff/romance didn't die altogether out of the story. It'll come back eventually. Also, because I now have a twisting plot (I hope), if you have any questions, please place them in your response to this chapter and I will answer them in the next chapter that is upcoming. 

French Translations:

_La Faction De Faucon: _The Falcon Faction

_Vous se trouvant, noir hearted le traître!!!:_ You black hearted traitor!

_Défit En Acier: _ Steel Demolisher

_Est-ce que par un dieu, que j'ai fait? Je suis parti du repaire du lion avec la proie à l'intérieur. Dieu me pardonnent!: _By god, what I have done? I left the lion's den with the prey inside. God forgive me!

Until next time!

EmeraldVelvetTouch


	12. Révélations

What can I say except thank you to all those fans who have more than saintly in their patience. Do not worry, this fic will not die. I would probably be angry myself if I let that happen. The next chapter, in large part thanks to ShadowSorceress, has already been started, so hopefully I'll get that up and running shortly. Thank you once again, and please enjoy the next installment.

* * *

To say that he felt ridiculous was the absolute understatement of George De'Sand's life. He wished with every scrap of dignity in him that all three of his companions had not so whole-heartedly declared it necessary.

Domon's idea had been well accepted, as no other option could be thought of on such short notice. There was an underlying urgency in all their actions as they helped George to disguise himself. He would become the dirty informant in clothing, manner, and most importantly appearance.

The Frenchman cursed his vanity as he tugged at his now short locks dyed a terrible mud color. The long and ratted trench that the informant had worn had, thank the higher powers, possessed a hood so that George's bright violet eyes could be hidden. The look, he mused bitterly as he pulled the hood over, was unnerving. As was the feeling pumping through his veins steadily; the feeling of guilt laced with raw fear.

"Looks like you're set there, Frenchie," Chibodee said though his tone of amusement had a lackluster quality to it despite his efforts. "Domon," he motioned to Neo-Japan's fighter and the King of Hearts made his way over to the darkened corner of the alley to inspect their work one last time. Domon nodded and they made their way onto the streets again.

Argo lead the group of four at a pace that was unprecedented for the grim Russian. George could see that he longed to break into a run; his steps shook with contained energy. But, every fighter there knew he risked losing something more precious if they drew attention to themselves: Mirabeau was still out there and had his lips close to the attentive ear of one Monsieur Défit En Acier.

Neo-France's fighter strained as he tried not to shake in anger. He knew it was all his fault and no one had dared contradict him. Blindly and foolishly, he took the bait that had been laid before him. What felt like bile rose in his throat; there could be no disgust as strong as what he felt for himself. George took a steadying, but shaky breath...thoughts like that had caused this mess. Uncertainty, doubt, selfishness...all players in Acier's great plan. Mirebeau saw George's downfall, Neo-France's downfall, and most of all, an end to the hard won peace all without lifting a finger.

The only desire left within George was one of salvation. Rectification was the only card he had left to play. And he prayed that their trump would save those most dear to them...and all of space.

The three tense fighters in front of him slowed, and he knew it was his signal. He turned sharply and crept along the gates while the others strode through the entrance and awaited an escort. George paused in the shadow of the brush surrounding the palace; his heart burning in his ears as he watched them stride inside with purpose. He swallowed, turned, and raced towards the servant's entrance. His stomach lurched, his heart threatened to burst, and his breath felt like it burned him from the inside. George De'Sand could feel it: this was his last chance.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Marie Louise's voice squeaked as the one person she never expected to see again marched through her door as if it were her room and not the monarch's own.

Allenby Beardsley stared the Princess down, but held a fragile smirk on her petite face. Marie's own face was marked with one of intense surprise, and she could not help but bask in the power that left her with. And it was power she knew she would need to have to help Neo-France win back its heir. With a quick lick of her lips she leaned against the one of the four posts on Marie's bed. The space between the blond and herself was immense, but she was sure that the element of surprise had awarded her the Princess' undivided attention: the space between them was rendered practically non-existent.

"I'm still fighting, Princess Marie Louise," She began in a delightfully cordial tone, "but, from all accounts it would seem that you are not."

Said Princess pulled her self up in her bed and sat up a little straighter, her arms shaking with effort and annoyance. Her voice, however, was still breathy as she said, "I would expect more of a greeting coming from you, Neo-Sweden's gundam fighter," Marie sank back into the safety of her sheets, "but I hardly care as of now."

"Can you really sit there," Allenby contined as if the Princess had said nothing, "and not be ashamed of yourself?"

Rain shot the aqua haired woman a warning glance, but it did nothing to faze the young woman.

"Ashamed?" Marie repeated in a heated whisper.

"Yes," the object of both women's glares made her way over to Marie's side, her eyes flashing. "You _were_ the girl who disguised herself and ran after the man who stole her heart, right? Hmpf..._were_ is right. You're nothing like that girl now. She was strong, independent, and nothing like the scared, selfish girl lying in this bed."

"Allenby!" Rain shouted, alarmed at this sudden and heated turn of events, "Enough."

Marie Louise sat up straight, her face redder that it had been in a long time, "I...I am not...selfish! How dare you accuse me of such a thing: selfish! HARDLY!" Her voice was hoarse, but it seemed to crack with a clear note of power that Rain had thought vanished.

"You're heart was broken Princess, true enough," Allenby continued ruthlessly, the expression on her face changed to a deep seated anger, "but you are not as special as you think! We have all had our hearts broken. So, yes, how dare _you_. You don't have a monopoly of grief, you selfish brat!"

Rain was almost made a move to take Allenby away, but a sudden jerk from her right stopped her dead in her tracks. Marie Louise, in her ire, had jumped from her bed, the sheets tangled around her feet and torso, holding her in place as she leaned against the bed with such a look of pain and hatred that Rain was surprised it didn't heat the room.

"What is it that you are saying to me, Allenby Beardsley?" The shaking monarch spat. "What? That I am not allowed to be human? Must I be Princess even in grief?!" She made a noise that had the sound of a laugh, but the pain of a sob, "My heart feels as if it has been torn! Torn, and I am STILL bleeding! Mon Dieu!" Tears threatened to leak from her emerald eyes, but instead of letting them fall, her shaking only increased. "The..." her face twisted, "...strength you speak of..._cannot_ heal me!" she shrieked her pain at the gundam fighter.

Allenby was silent, but her face held no part of the anger she had shown before. Finally, she gave a watery smile to the Princess and said, "You could have fooled me...I nearly thought you were going to strangle me..."

Marie Louise's anger did not vanish, but confusion mixed with it, swimming through her. She looked to her left, to see if Rain was just as confused at Allenby's behavior, but she was not there. It suddenly dawned on the Princess, and she turned all the way around slowly. Her eyes followed a trail of sheets on the floor and only then did she find Rain at the end of them; staring at the the head of the great bed. Rain, it seemed, looked more surprised at Marie Louise's movement, and less perplexed at Allenby.

The Princess turned around again slowly and suddenly became aware of how she felt. It was like looking in a private mirror. She felt...warm. She still shook, yes, but...there was no weight pulling her down. Carefully, as if still searching for a way to describe it, Marie Louise placed her palm above her heart. It was then that she realized what she could not have alone: she had lost herself. Her eyes widened and seemed to come alive for the first time since her knight had left. It was those same wide eyes that looked back up at Allenby in shock.

"Why, Princess Maire Louise," Allenby's voice was clear and resonant, "there you are."

* * *

"You do understand the need to keep her 'sedated', yes?" A strong voice echoed in Marie Louise's work room. Various papers all with her neat signature were sprawled across her large mahogany desk as were various happy photographs containing memories dear to her. The man currently seated at the warm desk, however, looked neither warm or happy.

"Yes," An insulted voice replied back, the tone was harsh and carried a sinister pitch, "You need not remind Mirebeau, Acier. If the Rose's lovely little lady is not here, you can be here. Which let's Mirebeau see your triumph." The sinister pitch carried a maddening melody to it, and Acier seemed tempted to cringe.

"Precisely so," the man called Acier smoothed back his gelled hair and straightened his bold, blue waistcoat. If he was on edge, one could not even tell by looking into his gray eyes. There was an air of perfection turned obsession that seeped from him balanced only by a teetering amount of control. Mirebeau was one kind of madness, of course, a mind too stretched by both a poisoned body and soul. But his was the kind of madness that was even more the lethal: a hidden one. And let the man be damned who figured it out. "The King was only too willing to let me take her place while she tried to recover. My voice on the council is gaining power, it may or may not please you to know, and I fully intend to carry our plans out in less than a week."

Mirebeau's eyes danced harshly back and forth from his employer to the vacant work room, "You say so, then why can't Mirebeau have his life? Why not now?" The lanky man seemed to unwind, like a spring pulled taut, "Mirebeau wants the Rose's life...his pain is Mirebeau's to have!"

There was a calm edge to Acier's sigh, "We have...dicussed this before. Should you wish to cause him pain, killing him is a rather ineffective, blunt, method." The man smoothly uncorked a bottle of wine that sat on the desk, and poured himself a glass, "As I have explained to you, once I have _my_ place as Supreme Head of the Council, there will be no need for..." he motioned around the room with the filled wine glass in his hand, "this charade. You will be free to dispose of her." He downed the wine in one swig, and sighed again, but this time in pleasure, "And that is how you will kill George De'Sand."

Mirebeau's only response was to laugh.

Acier put a hand to his temple, but his crooked smile did not vanish. With a wave of his other hand, he simply said, "Now _please_, go back into hiding, when the time is right...I will call you."

The deranged man before him staggered off to the left of the work room, still laughing, too consumed by the insane hilarity of blood lust. He fell against the ornately painted wall, and a passage creaked open. He soon fell into into the darkness, his laugh getting softer but still echoing.

"If you are going to be mad," He spoke to Mirebeau, though he knew his hired distraction could not hear him as he got up and shut the hidden panel in the wall, "at least have some dignity in your madness." His face contorted into a genuine, frightening smile.

* * *

French Translations:

Révélations: Revelations

Please stay tuned, I am commited not to let this fic die. Be well.

Emerald-Velvet-Touch


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